Second Chances (8 page)

“Keep your knife sharp, but if you can avoid using it, do so. You've only got what we've brought over with us. So find a flint tool and use that. We'll have to make cave man tools and use them. Cutting up an animal is a bitch; it takes a sharp blade,” Bert said then grimaced. “It'll take time to slaughter something in the field. You really need to get the guts out quick or they'll swell with gases and ruin the meat,” he said. He looked over to Heather who nodded. His red haired wife didn't talk much, but she nodded grimly in support of his position.

“Look, all predators are opportunists. They will all scavenge if they can, after all, free meal right?” John said. Both nodded. “I ran into that with bears back in Alaska all the time. Sometimes a shot or loud noise scared them off,” he said.

“But we can't afford to waste even a single shot,” Heather murmured. Bert nodded.

“So, we have to get in, finish the kill, then drag the animal out,” Eric said.

“Easier said than done my friend. What if he falls in a ravine? Or in a creek?” Bert asked. “And if you do get it roped off, my problem is dragging the kill back to us,” Bert said, pointing downward with his knife. “That in my book is something I'd consider a bad thing,” he said. Ross, Heather and Bull nodded grimly.

“A vehicle?” Eric asked. “Small one to get around in the bush?” He frowned thoughtfully.

John shook his head. “I've got the snowmobile, a couple quads, and I know others do too. We've got the trucks and stuff. What we don't have are the resources though. We're low on fuel for one. I brought fuel but it's diesel. And it's for me. Once it's gone, it's gone. There aren't any refineries or local gas stations around. We've got to figure something else out.”

“Something long term. There is no way we can haul back a ton of meat in the bush,” Bert said. “And don't even think about using one of Adam's horses. Horses hate the smell of blood.”

“Right. The dogs maybe,” John suggested. Bert shrugged.

They were worried about being in the territory of predators and other animals, but no one had a solution to the problem, nor to the question of just what the animals would do or how they would react. Even the alien animals were questionable. There was little frame of reference beyond generalities to go on, and Bert warned them not to trust even that too far. There was some concern expressed over the predator's overlapping territories.

“Some animals can share a range, but they'll kill each other's young. Cheetah, leopards, lions...others...” Bert said.

“Do we have a list of animals we've found here so far? Where they were spotted?” Heather asked quietly.

They went over a map pointing out where some animals were spotted and when.

The meeting broke up near lunch. Everyone went to work on individual chores or to check on their families. John went to check his animals and then spot checked the growing fortress base.

The outside palisade wall of earth and trees formed what looked like a frontier fort, but it was quickly evolving into a fortress of stone as they added rock and cement. Within the walls they used local materials to form crude tepees, crowded campers, tents, sheds, tin structures, and vehicles to sleep in until better structures were built.

John had shelters, sheds and prefab kits. He had bought prefab structures for the mine, plus the six containers that he and Rick had towed up the hill. They were being used as part wall, part container for his machinery. He was one of the best off of the group. Getting his sheds up had been hell, but Eric and Rick pitched in to help him. He'd handed the guys a couple MREs when they were done as thanks.

He set up solar panels he'd had on the roof and others he'd bought as shelters for the animals. He hadn't had the money to get a camper, but he'd planned on building a cabin anyway. Until then he slept in his truck. The animals sheltered in crude sheds he'd put together out of scrap metal or solar panels. Wires dangled here and there. He'd thought about using his supply of zip ties but then decided he'd better keep them for later. Instead, he used flexible twigs to tie them off where he could.

He'd also stripped his cabin of anything he could think of: cabinets, windows, doors. You name it, he took it. Just about everything except the walls and roof. He rather regretted not knocking it over and taking it too. Hell, the aliens had hauled his outhouse here! He thought with a twist of his lips. A bajillion miles, and they had carried the damn smelly outhouse. He shook his head at that thought.

Most everyone had some sort of shelter, even if it was a vehicle, though many didn't like to try to sleep in the stuffy confines of a car or truck. Rick and his kids slept in the sleeper in his old Peterbilt. They were one of the lucky ones; the old truck even had solar panels on the roof to power the microwave, TV and small fridge.

Guy Roberts and his wife were by far the most elaborate of the group—first with their decked out motor home and then with all the construction equipment, tools and supplies they'd brought along. Guy had been a general contractor. He was a bit surly though; it was hard to get him to work on anything other than the house he was building for his pregnant wife. They had a full larder of MREs and canned goods as well, so enticing them out with fresh meat was out. They were grateful to take what was freely offered but never offered anything in return. Many like John resented that a bit.

The smith reenactor, Adam Southby, was also pretty well off. The guy had a full blacksmith setup with him along with reenacting gear from the medieval and Roman time period to go with his herd, motor home and other things. He also had a hardy attitude and a full machine shop, one that rivaled Guy's and John's.

Things wouldn't be too bad if they really worked and pulled together, John thought. But everyone put their own needs first, himself included. He wasn't sure what else he could do about that. He did know he was tired of always putting himself out there ahead of anyone else.

John heard a steady put put and at first thought it was a nail gun. He ignored it, figuring Guy or someone was busy building, trying to get a roof or something up before the spring rains hit again. Then Bert came storming over. “Who the hell is firing off so many rounds?” Bert snarled, clearly furious. He even twitched his mustache in irritation.

“You sure it's a rifle, Bert?” Earl asked, coming out of the smithy.

Bert nodded. “Course it is, but it's not like anything I've heard,” he said. They localized the sound and then went to investigate.

They found Gerald Paxton, one of their local shy hermits, in the back of his property firing some sort of rifle into a block of wood. He didn't hear their approach with his Mickey Mouse ear protectors on. Finally he stopped what he was doing and turned. John noted the guy had eye goggles on for protection. “Gerald, what are you doing?” Earl asked. “And what the heck is that?”

“It's a rifle. Gauss rifle,” Bert said with a sniff. “New-fangled electric gizmo,” he said.

“Hey, Bert, it works,” Gerald said, putting the rifle on safety. He pulled the ammunition clip, then the small finger-sized battery pack. John noted the battery was one of the new designs just on the market, the room temperature superconductor ones that Chambers Electronics had put on the market a month before he'd been taken. He had a drill with the same battery. “The great thing is, no gunpowder,” Gerald said, putting the rifle down next to another one.

“Huh,” Bert said. He walked over to the target, a piece of wood. He pulled out a multitool and then pried out a couple rounds. “Nails?” he asked.

Gerald nodded. “Yeah, I've got to save them. I think I lost a few in the dirt when I went to full auto, but I can dig out the metal detector to find them,” he said.

“Interesting,” Bert mused. “I can make gunpowder, I know the formulas, I've got the kits, but if this works...”

“It's pretty cool. You've got to watch your fire though, too much and it'll overheat the system and the barrel could melt down or blow,” Gerald admitted. “And yeah, this one only has a forty-two meter muzzle velocity. Not much penetration power beyond thirty or forty feet,” he said.

Bert grumbled as he pulled more rounds out with the pliers. “Round tumbles in the air,” he muttered. “It's good for some impact. It'll tear up a target, but you lose a lot of velocity and range,” he said.

“Yeah, there is that too,” Gerald said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I'm not sure how to deal with that.”

“Rifling,” Bert said. “Six point five by, what, fifty millimeter rounds?”

“Can't, the barrel doesn't touch the round,” Gerald shot right back. “Caseless rounds, fifteen clip.”

“Not the barrel, on the rounds,” Bert retorted. He held up a round. “Is this a nail?”

“So it really is a nail gun?” Earl asked, laughing.

“Yeah, it's a nail. I've got others; the one my two latest ones have are quite powerful. Twice as powerful, firing a nine point five by sixty six millimeter round. Single shot though, but it has almost two and a half times the muzzle velocity and energy,” he said, looking uncomfortable.

“Where did you get the idea for this?” Earl asked, looking the rifles over.

“From the Internet of course. A website, Delta-V Engineering. Very cool. The smaller single shot was used in the
Dark Knight Rises
film. Very cool,” Gerald said with a smile. “I'm working on a hunting rifle. It's a prototype. I used his basic plan but lengthened the barrel and added a scope. Those new batteries cut the weight,” he said, shaking his head.

“Can you make more?” Bert asked.

“If I've got the materials,” Gerald said, nodding. “I've got the plans on my computers. I can cannibalize cell charges like the original plan called for. The two, no three sticking points are the batteries, metal and capacitors,” he said.

“What's the firing rate?” Bert asked. “I think I can help you here,” he said thoughtfully.

“It fires seven rounds a second. I could up that, but I don't want to wear out the barrel and parts,” Gerald admitted. “I printed it on my 3D printer. It's a Solidoodle 4, very cool.”

John nodded, crossing his arms and rubbing his chin. He looked over to Gerald's solar panels and fencing. The guy had set up an inner layer around his motor home, an electric fence with one entrance. Half the wire was up on the wall, apparently protecting it.

“It'd be nice if we'd known about this earlier,” Earl grumped. “All of it,” he said.

Gerald looked down, clearly uncomfortable. “I...have trouble being around people,” he said.

“Well, lucky for you, I'm going to be your new best friend,” Bert said. Gerald looked up in surprise. “We're going to improve your rifles, then give that hunting rifle of yours a field test. I tell you what, we bring something down with it, you get first dibs on the meat,” he said.

Gerald licked his lips and then nodded. “Yeah, I could do with a decent steak,” he said. “Got any beer?” he asked.

“No, but we'll work on that,” John said. He waved the others out. “Good work, Gerald, very cool,” he said. Gerald bobbed a nod then turned back to work with Bert as the hunter picked up a rifle.

~~~~~~(@)~~~~~~

As the rains slacked off to once or twice a week and the sun warmed the ground, they worried about balancing the need for various things while also husbanding their limited resources. Building and expanding the fort was an obvious priority, but so was setting up the farms and hunting. Somewhere along the line they had to start gathering additional resources other than just wood and food, John thought.

They were starting to deal with nosy animals more often. Bert and Heather were fortunate to be able to make kills from the walls on three occasions last week, each time with Gerald's Gauss coil hunting rifle. Two of the animals had been duckbilled Hadrosaurs, another had been a six-legged ceratops with a big rhino horn that had gotten too close to the wall for comfort. Getting the kills into the fort had been easy; they'd hooked up a pickup and dragged in pieces for slaughter.

But really, it felt like they were racing the clock. John, Victor, the Gummers, and others who came from the north knew the snows would be bad. It was hoped that they'd only get a moderate dusting, but they couldn't plan on that.

A quarter of their meat was set aside for smoking. Gerald was pretty much filled up with meat, so much that he traded his excess to Victor for various things in short supply.

They realized with relief it was indeed spring as the temperature warmed and sprouts formed on the bare branches and in the fields. But the realization and relief that it was spring was fleeting; they needed to plant more and secure the area. “Each person needs roughly about one acre of land for farming, that's produce, grains, and grazing,” John said to a group of teens when they complained about all the work. The group had planted two fields, and much to John's annoyance he'd used his dozer to rip drainage ditches around the perimeter. They hadn't planted close to the tree line for several reasons. One was the threat of animals; the second was that the shade from the trees would stifle the plant growth. Not that the trees were much of a problem. He and the others were cutting the trees down at a good clip now.

John looked over to see Sophia, Dawn, Joy, Nel, Trey, Gwen, and Kevin had moved away, not interested in the lecture apparently. One kid had stuck around though.

“Why?” A teen asked. It took John a moment to recognize him, but the name didn't come to him right away. “Why is spring such a good thing?” he asked.